When you arrive at the AirBnB, your kids are bouncing off the walls they’re so excited. You open up the trunk and hand them each a shovel.
“It’s a fun project in the back yard.”
You dig in the far corner of the yard, by the rose bush. You do most of the digging, your older son helping some, but your younger son and daughter can’t hold the shovels very well, so you instruct them to just pick up the rocks when you hit them.
“Can’t we go and play by the stream?” your younger son asks.
You don’t answer because your shovel just made a thud against something wooden.
You and your kids dig the chest out of the ground. You open the lid and reveal the remains of the man your father murdered 39 years ago, the man you helped him bury when you were no older than your youngest.
“He was a threat to our entire family,” you tell your kids. “When your grandad killed him, we were set up financially for generations. But all this land is being leveled for a condo, so we have to get these bones out of here before someone finds them.”
You and your kids carry the chest into the car and head to the stream. You spend all night digging. Once you have the chest in the ground, your oldest jerks his head up the hill.
“Robby!” you say. But your son is already on the run.
When you get over the hill you find Robby standing over the body of a drifter who has a shovel shaped gash in his skull.
“We need to dig another hole,” Robby says. “For the family.”
Somewhere, you know your dad is smiling.
You dig as fast as you can so you can get someplace with a signal to try and extend your AirBnB rental, but they’ve already rented the place and you haven’t filled in the hole yet. You’re still digging when the new renters arrive with their kids.
“Robby!” you say. But he’s already run inside the house with his shovel.
Happy One Night AirBnB Day!